Catching my breath.

We had some fun cookie time yesterday.

Good ol' peanutbutter and chocolate chip. Later the boys took a brief nap so they could be alert for the opening of "We Won't Pay" here at Rosebud. We got to eat at the Merc and watch the whole show, but it was warm in there and very late by the time it ended, but the boys did well. It's ridiculous fun and I enjoyed some good laughs. I think the boys will enjoy it a little more the next time they see it. They seemed to take it a little too seriously and worried for the characters.

Where has the time gone?

It's already daylight savings.

I still need to get out and walk more, but at least I'm doing a bit.

I start back with faith and art class next Wednesday and we establish a new routine.

Our sponsor child moved and we were given a new boy from Umvoti, South Africa. His name is Philasande and so we wrote him about ourselves.

It really makes you think when Philasande doesn't have access to clean water nearby and we complain about our finances. Sigh. We were overdrawn yesterday. That hasn't happened in years. Terribly humbling. We have to adjust our spending, obviously, and I wish to pour more into my writing for potential future income, but it's a challenge with my schedule. For instance, Dave was in rehearsal today from 10:30-1 and again from 2-7pm, so sometimes it's all I can do to keep the boys engaged and not complaining. My boys are wonderful, but I would love that much time to work creatively.

Maybe in May.

Yes. I will be writing in May.

I find myself having to sigh out a lot of frustration and stress. I actually visualize myself releasing my worry on a breath and I feel it go out of me. Then I consciously take a low breath and try to stay in reality with my fears. When I look in the mirror, I'm not encouraged by what I see. I wonder if I were to take time to get ready and more presentable in my at home days if I would actually get more accomplished and hold my spine up straighter. ? I suppose I should give myself a bit of a break because I had terrible cramps.

At the breakfast table I asked the boys to stop shouting out their exciting funny stories and tell them quieter; they were putting me on edge and I explained that I was hurting inside. Of course, Donovan wanted to know how I was hurting. "It's a woman thing," I said. "But what is it?" "It's called menstruation" I said, trying to throw him off the scent. He thought for a while. Weston said, "Menstratication?" "No." Then thoughtful Donovan said, "You're frustrated with Dad?" "Oh, no, honey. Not Men-frustration; men-stration." Ahh. Little boys... who will not be little much longer.

Tomorrow is Weston's 6th birthday and he's planned lots of games.

I hope I have some good energy to deal with all the kids and friction that comes with competition.

Suppose we should all going to bed early tonight with that one less hour...